Still The One

One

Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, “It might have been.” – Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle

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One
Now – April 17, 2018

Rain drizzled repetitively across my windshield, regardless of how the wipers were on their highest setting. The knuckles of my small hands were relatively translucent from gripping the steering wheel so firmly. I cranked up the heat to defog the blurred windows and to warm my frozen, numb fingers. The pleasant gusts of tepid air softened my frigid body. I could never entirely get used to the cold. I was always cold.

My eyes deviated toward the dash; the digital numbers displayed that it was eleven at night. I was greatly striving to drive home carefully through the ravenous storm. After working late at Icy, I hadn’t noticed it was so dark outside. The only things I could depict through the dingy shadows were the beacons emitting from my headlights.

Raindrops pounded thunderingly on the roof of my car, the windshield wipers moving very rapidly now. If they were pivoting any faster, they would flutter off. Swish, swish, swish.

Finally, I slipped into the parking garage opposite my flat. Gripping my wide, titian purse, I made my way across the dimly-lit platform. I took my time, in light of the basis that I wasn’t paranoid and didn’t feel the need to hurry. The thought of being alone in these hazardous spaces didn’t scare me like it did years ago.

Opening my mauve umbrella and attempting to avoid contact with each puddle, I swiftly walked beyond the faded street – the single source of illumination radiating from the old lamp posts. I entered my building, instantaneously feeling contentment from the wave of heat. Wiping my feet along the Welcome mat, I hadn’t noticed that Luke was in the lobby. His tall, bulky figure was leaning against the wall next to the stairs.

“Evening, Alice,” he grinned. “You look lovely as always.”

Lovely? My usual sleek, dark hair was wet and mangled from the boisterous rain. I was wasted from work, compelling an expected, unflattering frown upon my face.

I never understood what boys found so attractive about the relaxed, natural look. Maybe it was in the related way that I adored the sexy, messy hair a guy modeled when he first awoke in the morning. Or the way he could look incredible in something as plain as an old t-shirt. In a flash, I grabbed the letters that were loaded into my mail slot, admitting them into my bag.

“You’re sweet, Luke. You have a good night, okay?” I replied right as I passed him. I wasn’t so much in the mood for conversation, as I was in getting snug inside my room. He was a nice guy, but my bed was nicer. Calling from the bottom of the stairs, he yelled, “You too!”

Reaching my place, I unlocked the door and unhesitatingly dropped my umbrella on the coat rack, my keys on the kitchen counter, and my purse on the couch. Home sweet home.

The ceiling lights I switched on had drastically brightened the area. I drifted towards the main room, solely poised in front of the plywood wall shelves that came with the flat. Several silver, lustrous frames were lounging upon the leveled ledges, exposing the adventures I had went through in my life thus far.

My eyes transferred to a particular picture – one in which I was posing in front of a large, enchanting ferris wheel; happy and smiling, with him. He towered to my side, a foot taller, his hand barely grazing my hip. Commemorating the fond memory, I could feel the soft touch of his fingertips on my waist, feathering my skin even through my clothing; the shivers running their course up my spine. Without giving into the cruel satisfaction of achingly thinking over it, I turned away. All of this recollection was only tormenting me inside.

Mindlessly carrying myself to the bathroom, I was continuing the evermore, familiar routine I did every day after work. I stripped off my clothes, removing layer by layer. My arctic feet were even colder on the checker-tiled, linoleum floor. Stepping into the glass shower, I turned the crystal knob and a spray of roasting, fiery water splashed onto my skin. I sighed in relief. My cold body was finally happy.

After finishing up, I wrapped myself in the nearby towel; the warmth of the water already leaving me. As I shivered, my hair still dripping, I remembered the mail. I strode back into the living room to snag my purse, not caring for the wet footprints I left along the hardwood floor. I hardly cared for much of anything, anymore.

It was strange. I never thought I’d feel this way. Empty. One day, I had just found myself believing that I had virtually no purpose. I’m simply alone and lost and wandering – wondering if there will ever be a time when I’m as truly happy as I once was. But, at the moment, I would settle for just another chance.

Collecting what was inside my bag, I scrambled through the lofty stack. In it resided three magazine subscriptions, several bills, a few vacations packages, a personal missive from my mother, and a very formal letter enclosed with a red rose seal.

My heart was beating much faster, my pulse feeling more rapid. Flipping over to the front of the envelope, my name was clearly printed – Alice Moore.

 

Carefully taking off the seal, my hand was notably shaking and sweating. I slowly removed the paper inside, holding my breath.

       You are cordially invited to
        celebrate the wedding of
            Harry Edward Styles
                            and
           Vanessa Anne Brown
  On Saturday – The twenty-third
                         of June
     At 4 o’clock in the afternoon

 

Without thinking, I found myself slowly floating to my bed, submerging down on the edge. Unconsciously releasing the letter from my grip, it fell to the floor with a rustled thud. My bony elbows were rested on my knees while I buried my face in my hands. My throat was dry with sorrow and my eyes burned with heartache, yet tears wouldn’t fall. They couldn’t anymore.

I knew this was coming. He had told me about the engagement, the wedding date, everything – breaking my heart in the process. But now, as the proof was lying right in front of me, it hit me at its hardest.

My best friend, the guy with killer eyes, the one that made my pulse race, the lover who made my head spin with every word, the only soul that I have confided my life with, the boy I met six years ago, the man I have been madly in love with since –

was getting married.

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✿A/N: 
So, there's the first chapter. Sorry if it's a bit short, it was pretty much a prologue, and the rest are much longer I promise. So, vote, comment, become a fan, and if you guys like it, then I'll continue the rest. ✿